"'Poss? Asleep? Gwacious, no!" said 'Possum's brother, in amazement. "She's feeding the calf. Come on down to the shed."
He led the way across the untidy yard. The shed was a half-open place, tenanted by a dray, two ploughs, a harrow, sundry old iron, and a calf. The calf was tied to the wheel of the dray, and at the moment was strenuously objecting to take nourishment, which 'Possum, seated on a wheelbarrow, was endeavouring to administer by means of a baby's bottle. The efforts of the calf to withdraw were frustrated by the combined muscles of Bertha, young Bill and little Polly, who held it firmly in position and talked to it in good plain terms. The calf, however, was obdurate, and at last 'Possum gave up the attempt.
"Oh, let him go!" she said, without noticing the new-comers. "I wouldn't mind if it was on'y his feed, but it's his med'cine as well. We'll hot it up after a bit, Bill, an' try him again."
"Might as well try 'n' pour milk into a gate-post!" said young Bill, disgustedly, prodding, with a bare toe, the calf, which had lain down thankfully on its straw. "Brute! I dunno how Daisy come to have such a mis'rable little runt of a thing!"
"Jolly careless of her," said 'Possum. "Now you just turn me round, an' wheel me up easy, Bert. Don't go an' pitch me out, like you near did comin' down!"
"Let me help," said Tom, stepping forward. Every one jumped, and 'Possum turned a lively pink.
"Sorry," she said gruffly, looking at her bandaged feet, which were thrust over the edge of the wheelbarrow, "I'm lame, like the silly ass I am, so the kids have to wheel me round—that fool of a calf won't drink for Bill, but he gen'lly-as-a-rule will for me. Don't you bother, Mr. Macleod; Bert can get me up all right."
"I don't believe Bertha's half as good in the shafts of a barrow as I am!" Tom retorted. "I've been broken in ever so much longer than she has; I wouldn't trust her not to kick!" Which pleasantry reduced Bertha to suppressed giggles, until she grew alarmingly red in the face.
Tom wheeled the barrow up the steep yard, and paused at the kitchen door. It was a dark, low room, lit only by one small window; but it was spotlessly neat and clean. A rough home-made sofa, from which a coarse rug had been flung back, stood under the window.
"Is that your camp?" Tom asked, indicating the sofa. 'Possum nodded, looking more wretchedly uncomfortable than before.